


Stump

by Zee_McZed



Category: El Goonish Shive
Genre: Character Development, Coping, Creative stress outlets, Fairy doll forms, Friendship, Gen, Insomnia, PTSD, Transformation, WAFF, broad strokes canon, impromptu therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 00:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21365152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zee_McZed/pseuds/Zee_McZed
Summary: Or: Impromptu Therapy Between Two People With Hella PTSD Issues And Fairy Doll Forms Brought On By Insomnia.
Relationships: Nanase Kitsune & Susan Pompoms, Nanase Kitsune/Ellen Dunkel
Comments: 11
Kudos: 53





	Stump

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again to Lap, who is the best damn editor and beta reader a writer could ever hope for.

Susan's backyard was quite large. For a city lot, anyhow. The stand of trees along the back fence was mostly to provide a more effective barrier between her house and the neighbors - more privacy, less noise, less lawn for the gardener to mow. In all honesty, the area was ignored by everyone.

That made it ideal.

She'd found the stump in the corner some time ago. It had just been too close to the fence line - they’d had to cut the tree down so the roots wouldn't lift the fence up, barge into the neighbor's property, all the sorts of thing that would call the wrath of the home owners association down on them. Now the stump was easy to overlook. A halfway decent place to sit and think.

If someone had peered into her yard that night, from a very specific angle, they would also have seen light coming from it.

The stump had been hollowed out. A fold in the wood provided the frame for an arched doorway. A round hole had been capped by the bottom of a glass soda bottle, making a serviceable window. The inside of the stump could be described, quite simply, as the most functional dollhouse one could imagine: lamps made of coat hanger wire and disassembled keychain flashlights, an overstuffed doll sofa that had the look of something ordered from Etsy, beanbag chairs made from large stress balls. 

It was on one of these that Susan was reclining. Or, rather, Susan's fairy doll, Lil Suze. She was not asleep - despite the hour - but instead she was using a hobby scalpel blade to carve something out of a wine cork.

A blade that immediately slipped out of her hand when she heard a voice.

"I love what you've done with the place."

"Nanase?!" 

Nanase had had the courtesy to wait until Susan was at the end of a long carving stroke to speak. The only other person in Moperville who could take on fairy form via magic (so far as they knew, at least) was leaning against the door frame. "What are you doing here?"

"I saw light down here. Thought I'd see what was going on."

"... Yes, well…" Susan coughed, glancing away, cheeks flaring red. 

"This is really impressive. I mean, that probably sounded glib a second ago, but - you made all this yourself? How long did it take you to carve this out?"

"Two months, round about. There was a bit of a hollow in the center that I worked outward from." Susan pointed upwards to where a hole in the stump had once been, now patched with wood putty.

"Wow. That's… that's impressive." Nanase paced around the room, taking it all in, tail flicking behind her and hands folded behind her, beneath her wings. Susan stood slowly.

"That wasn't much of an answer."

"Well, I wasn't really asking about the technical aspects. I-"

" _ Your _ answer. What are you doing in  _ my  _ yard at two in the morning?"

"It's closer to three." Nanase mumbled.

"That doesn't make it much better." She folded her arms in front of her as Nanase scratched behind her ear sheepishly.

"Sometimes I have problems sleeping, that's all. Going fairy and taking a flight around town helps."

"Oh." Susan felt the tension fall away. "Just wearing yourself out without actually wearing out your body. I get that."

"It's, uh." Nanase cleared her throat. "Less that, and more putting my mind at ease." She gestured at one of the stress ball chairs. "May I?"

"Of course. It's about time someone used the furniture besides me." Susan picked her homemade knife up and sat down to carve again. Nanase sat across from her. The foam pellets in the rubbery ball made for a very pleasant cushion. She closed her eyes a moment.

"When it's late like this, I like to just… check on things. Make sure that everyone is okay." 

The pieces fell into place in Susan's head."Lingering worries after Sirleck, then?"

"And before, but that's probably part of it." Nanase spread her arms, really getting cozy in her seat. "I've been doing this since I got the fairy doll spell." 

“You’ve probably seen some things that can’t be unseen by now.” Susan allowed herself a thin smile. 

“At 3 AM? Not as much as you’d think. By that point, everyone that’s getting frisky is usually done, people that need some ‘me time’ before sleep are worn out, and there’s just…  _ not a lot  _ to accidentally see through a window. I’ve accidentally seen a few  _ moments  _ of… things… but never more than a glimpse, you know?”

“I suppose. I haven’t really considered anything like that…” Susan’s hands were working almost by themselves, scraping away at layers of the cork, shaping it down further. It was keeping the same general size, but she was squaring it off, forming feet for it. “And I can see the appeal. Peeking in late, making sure that everyone is safe and asleep.”

“Or safe and binging Star Trek.” 

Susan flinched. “Guilty.”

“You and Ellen both.  _ And  _ Grace, come to think of it.”

“Grace was watching Trek before dawn. Really.” Susan couldn’t hide her amusement. Nanase nodded - her whole body had gone limp in the stress ball.

“Once. Most of the time she’s just cuddled up with Tedd, of course… Ellen’s sleep schedule is terrible, so of course she’s up sporadically. And, uh…”

“And I’m as bad an insomniac as you are, evidently.” Susan finished the thought.

“Yeah. I might not have as bad a time if we can get Rhoda to blow one of these up for me.” She sighed and wiggled a little deeper into the stress ball.

“And if someone asks you where you got the rubber stress ball the size of a recliner?”

“Internet.” Nanase deadpanned.

“I cannot deny that it would be an effective lie, even if it’s infuriatingly vague…” Susan flipped the cork over, working on the underside more. Nanase lifted her head, staring at her work a moment before speaking. 

“Are you making a footstool?”

“Yes.”

“Huh. Not a bad next step. It looks really good so far.” 

“I’m just hoping it holds together well. The cork is good and dense, sure, but I’m actually going to be  _ using  _ it, not just leaving it on display.”

“ _ Ah.  _ I’m guessing you’ve bought doll furniture that disappointed on that front?” Nanase grinned, as Susan stiffened up.

“I did. What made you think that I was talking about something  _ purchased  _ instead of inadequacies in my own work?”

“The sofa. That thing is way too elaborate - uh, no offense, but it’s definitely more  _ decorative  _ in nature.”

“None taken, it’s really masterful. I wouldn’t know how to start with the stitching.” There was a definite charm to the rest of her furnishings, but it was a fanciful, rough-edged charm, less like a proper dollhouse and more like a scene out of  _ The Borrowers. _ "After I hollowed out the stump, I started with a few things from the hobby store. And I missed the ‘for display only’ tag.” She stuck her tongue out. “Not a great experience, really.”

“...and this works okay for you?”

“Hm?”

“The combination of the… the fastidious detailing and the physical labor?” Nanase slowly shifted in the stress ball until she was almost sitting upright. Susan thought a moment. 

“Yes.” Susan nodded, matter-of-fact, and set her footstool down, propping her heels up on it. “I don’t know if it’s just because it’s  _ satisfying,  _ or if it’s because it tricks my brain into thinking that my real body is exhausted. Either way, I enjoy it.” 

“...I think I get it, yeah.” Nanase’s smile made Susan feel a little warmer inside. It was something that was, perhaps, more special. It was understanding. Or something akin to it. They didn’t have to discuss the  _ why,  _ just what  _ was,  _ and that was a wonderful relief. 

“You’ll have to come by again another night. Perhaps we can go on patrol together.”

“I’d like that. One night when our insomnia syncs up-” 

POP. Susan’s lower half slumped a few degrees as one of the legs broke off her newly carved footstool. “-aw, Crud.”

”Sorry,“ Nanase commiserated.

Susan shrugged, unperturbed by the failure of her workmanship. “It just means I have a project for tomorrow.” Susan’s tail flicked. “So do you visit multiple houses in one night? I know fairy flight is pretty quick, but…”

-o-

Susan was waiting on the roof of her fairy house when Nanase buzzed by. A week had passed since the first time Nanase had stopped by; she hadn’t been there since. During the day, Susan had briefly spoken about it to Nanase. A few words, as if to convince herself that it hadn’t been a dream. Nothing more. And they’d changed topics when Ellen had come back into the room - it wasn’t that Susan was embarrassed. Not really. But… well, no sense in worrying anyone, right?

“Good evening, Nanase.”

“Miss Susan.” Nanase bowed mid-air. “Ready for our excursion?” Her wings fluttered as she set down. “I hope you haven’t been waiting on top of your house  _ every  _ night.” 

“I haven’t been  _ in  _ my house every night.” Susan protested, despite her grin. “But no, I was just enjoying the stars.”

“...yeah. Seems clearer than usual, doesn’t it?”

“It does.” Susan hopped to her feet and stretched. “So who will we be performing Tiny Guardian Angel duty for tonight?”

“Take your pick. I already peeked in on Ellen.”

“I bet you did.” Susan didn’t even try to deadpan that one, her tone decidedly suggestive. Nanase snorted.

“She got a fairy smooch on the forehead, and nothing more. I’m not going to do anything when she’s  _ actually asleep. _ ”

“...how bad is her insomnia, anyhow?” Susan took to the air, both of them flying in a direction that was generally ‘into town’.

“I don’t think I can call it insomnia. She  _ sleeps,  _ she just sleeps at weird hours. Whereas with us…” Nanase shrugged. There was a problem there. It seemed that she didn’t want to discuss it any more than Susan did, but they could both acknowledge it obliquely. 

“How about Sarah?” Susan’s tail flicked behind her, before returning to doing its job - evidently it did serve as a competent mid-flight stabilizer. Somehow. Despite the fairy wings being primarily a symbol of flight, powered by magic, and actual aerodynamics taking a distinct backseat. 

“Works for me. Lead the way.” Susan buzzed out in front, and Nanase followed, a few arm’s lengths away. The night was cool, clear, and remarkably quiet. An occasional thrum of an engine, or the barking of a dog that had been left out. A faint rustle of breeze. Nothing more. It was quite easy for Susan to see how Nanase could grow to enjoy this. 

“How do you do it, anyway?” Susan wasn’t perturbed when her mouth decided to act without her head’s permission. She’d been wondering long enough, and like this… things seemed to matter a little less. As if everything was just the slightest bit less  _ real  _ when she was in her fairy form.

“Do what?”

“Hide it all, day to day. I shove the… effects of that day aside, but you can still see them very clearly if you look for even a moment.” 

“Oh.” Susan wasn’t looking back at Nanase - even at the height they were operating at, it wasn’t a great idea to look away from where you were flying - but she could hear a little bit of discomfort in her tone. Shit. They’d been doing so well  _ not  _ talking about the elephant in the room. “Honestly, I don’t know. I might just be the reigning champion at competitive trauma repression.”

“There’s a pro circuit? I need to know how to get a sponsor.”

“Really not worth the limelight. The losers get very touchy.” Nanase was smiling again - even if Susan couldn’t see it at the moment, she could hear it. “I don’t know - maybe my competitive side gets amped up, maybe my desire to protect you all goes into overdrive. I don’t really think about the specifics of what’s hammered my brain into my present state.” 

“Mm.” 

“You just stopped yourself from saying something.”

“I  _ did  _ indeed. Pleasant little burst of honesty and introspection aside, I don’t want to cast a shadow of unpleasant memories on the rest of the evening.”

“Morning, really, but that’s fair enough.” Susan wasn’t sure if she heard Nanase chuckle or if that was her imagination. 

As they drew close to Sarah’s house, Nanase buzzed in front briefly. “So - I typically try to stay quiet when I get close.”

“Fairy voices aren’t really loud.”

“True, but you never know when someone’s not in a deep sleep, and you don’t want to explain things if they do wake up.”

“That…” Susan trailed off, scratching at the back of her head. “Is a fair point. Whispering would be fine, though?”

“Sure.” They were at the wrong side of the house for Sarah’s room, but Nanase was still heading up to the nearest window. It seemed that Nanase was doing more than peeking in on just their friends while they slept. Sarah’s parents were first - and, yes, they were both fast asleep, buried under blankets so thoroughly that Susan could just barely tell it was them. Nanase paused for a few seconds, just watching, as if making sure everything seemed fine. It struck Susan as interesting - the first few moments were spent looking at her charges, and then Nanase started peering around their room intently, as if checking for monsters in the corners, or creeping out of the closet. When everything met her approval, she nodded and pointed along the side. 

The next window was a hallway - which received the same scrutiny. And then Carol’s room. Sarah’s sister didn’t live at home anymore, but she still used her room a few nights a month - and, lo and behold, there she was, sleeping atop the sheets, face down, rear in the air. Susan’s head tilted to one side. On the one hand, she was seeing entirely too much of Carol at the moment. On the other, the effect was more comedic than alluring, which was helped along by the fact that she was wearing a very wrinkled tee shirt and pajama shorts covered by tiny cartoon sheep. Susan giggled into her hand, as Nanase… well, stared a moment, blushing rather hard, and then looked everywhere in the room except at Carol. It wasn’t until they were halfway to Sarah’s window that Susan found her voice.

“Do you think she was drunk?”

“I have no idea. I’ve never seen Carol drink, so I can’t exactly judge based on sleeping posture… and honestly, that’s the first time I’ve been here that she’s been home…” Nanase folded her hands behind her. “That butt does run in the family, doesn’t it?”

“Most definitely.” At least Susan hadn’t been the only one thinking it. Sarah’s room was more familiar to Susan - she’d never spent long hours hanging out in Carol’s room - and even in the dark, she could tell where everything was. The stacks of recent artwork, the tiny Applejack that Sarah had picked up as an impulse buy and placed on one corner of her desk… and her best friend, presently not in bed, but asleep, folded over atop a sketch pad. Susan rubbed her cheek, her smile slowly fading. 

“...Susan?” Nanase whispered. “You okay? Everything seems fine here.”

“Do you think we can get the window open?”

“Maybe. Why? What - what did I miss?” The fur on Nanase’s tail bristled. 

“Nothing, Nase. It’s nothing serious. Just - her back is going to be completely out tomorrow if she sleeps like that.” 

“What part of ‘let’s not wake anyone’ didn’t you get?” Nanase was smiling despite her objection. “She’ll be fine. Do you know how often this happens to her?”

“No. I suppose you have a slightly better inkling.”

“A bit better. I swear, she can sleep in  _ any  _ position. I’ve seen her curled up in the fetal position, sprawled all across her sheets, halfway  _ off  _ the bed, snuggled up at her desk... “

“So this won’t really affect her that much, in your professional opinion?” Susan flitted up a few inches, staring in at a slightly different angle. Nanase nodded. 

“I’m sure -  _ professional? _ ”

“I think, if anyone qualifies as a professional guardian angel, you’ve got the badge by now.” A moment passed, and Susan rubbed her arm sheepishly. “That sounded schmaltzy. Ugh. And I hadn’t considered how that might come off, what with the guardian form and…”

“It’s all right. Like you said, ‘tiny guardian angel duty’. It’s accurate.” Nanase lifted up until she was level with Susan again, hovering in place. “I mean, hell, if I’m going to be defined by  _ anything,  _ that might as well be it.”

“You’re - you’re not defined by your magic.”

“No. But I might as well be defined by what I choose to protect.  _ Who  _ I choose to protect.” She stared off into space a moment, and then let out a choking sound, perhaps a strangled laugh.

“Am I missing something?”

“No, just a thought that occurred to me and sounded  _ really  _ melodramatic. ‘I am the fox that watches the flock’.”

“Oof. You’re right, that’s  _ really  _ overdramatic.” Susan stuck out her tongue. “And I’m pretty sure a fox wouldn’t be able to take down a sheep.”

“Probably not. What’s a group of bunnies called?” 

“I am  _ not  _ a bunny.” Susan’s eyebrows lowered.

“No, but you’d look pretty good with lop ears.” Nanase’s grin ascended a level. Once merely snarky, it was now full-ahead  _ shit-eating.  _

Susan groaned. “Why do I keep egging you on again?”

“Because every wise guy needs a straight man, so to speak? You’d be a pretty good Laurel to my Hardy.” 

“Wait, which was which in that pair?” 

“I… you know, I don’t know? I’ve only seen ‘Who’s on First’.”

“Something to add to the pile of media to get around to watching, I suppose.” Susan tilted her head to one side. Nanase caught the hint, and away they flew. 

-o-

Nanase didn’t expect to hear tapping at her window. She turned, and squinted. A tiny dark shape was silhouetted in the faint light as the rain pounded the window. She really didn’t want to get out of the covers - but then, she had a summon for that, didn’t she? She popped Fox into existence… and Fox promptly snuggled in next to her. Nanase groaned. “I need you to get the window.” Fox stuck her tongue out. “...damn useless summon.” Fox nodded once, almost smugly, and Nanase got to her feet, grumbling quietly. She popped the window open, and Susan tumbled in. 

“What are you  _ doing  _ out here?” She whispered. A month of sporadic fairy visits, and this was the first time Susan had shown up at  _ her  _ house.

“I… I couldn’t sleep.” 

“Yeah, I gathered. Neither could  _ I,  _ but it’s way too rainy to go for a flight.” She glanced around. There was a roll of paper towels on her desk - that’d do. She tore off a sheet, and handed it to Susan, who proceeded to wrap herself up, shimmying herself dry. “Seriously, what gives?”

“I…” Susan sneezed. “I don’t know. I just needed to talk to someone.” Nanase crossed her arms. For a moment, she seemed genuinely angry. 

“You’re lucky fairy dolls can’t catch cold.” She muttered at last. “So… what’s on your mind?”

“Everything. Nothing.” 

“Ah. Spot on. So I get to decipher koans as well as provide company.” 

“Are you sure I didn’t wake you?”

“No, just -” She shook her head a moment. “Hold on. Let me get you something to wear, that’s gotta be soaked through.”

“You have something?” Susan glanced down beneath the paper towel. Nanase smiled, returning to bed - Fox promptly snuggled up against her again - and as she closed her eyes, Nanase’s doll form blinked into existence. She flittered over to a drawer, pulled it open. 

“So first - this will be quieter. No reason we can’t talk freely now. Second…” She dove into the drawer and retrieved a set of doll clothes. Yoga pants and a tank top. “I have a girlfriend that likes to play dress-up.”

“I do not need any further explanation. Thank you.” Susan shivered a little as Nanase handed her the clothing. With the ample modesty of the sheet of paper towel, Susan pulled the clothing in, as Nanase turned around..

“No problem. Do you want to decode that deliberate contradiction for me now?” 

“That might be tricky.” Susan tossed out the soaked body stocking-like garment that all fairy dolls seemed to have as a default, squirming around beneath the paper towel. Nanase couldn’t tell if she was getting dressed already or drying up; either way, she continued to avert her eyes. 

“I don’t have nightmares, you understand. Not really,” Susan said.

“Okay. I don’t understand yet, but by all means, continue.”

“Well, my dreams  _ themselves  _ are fairly typical from what little I can remember. Sometimes bad in a too-on-point anxiety-inducing way, sometimes good in a weird-but-not-terrible way. And… sometimes my body decides that it’s time to jerk myself awake and panic. I still don’t know what causes it, but it’s  _ very  _ unpleasant.”

“That… does sound pretty bad. So is that why you have insomnia?” Nanase tilted her head to one side as Susan finally slid out of the paper towel, doll clothes in place, wiping her hair dry before moving to her tail, shaking her wings out rapidly. A few tiny water droplets flew off. 

“No. Well, not by itself. I can imagine that it’s part of it, but it’s far from the only reason. Most of the time it’s just kind of a general lingering anxiety or frustration. I’d imagine that’s sort of the same reason it happens for you.”

“Probably.” Nanase scratched at the back of her head. “Everything fit okay?”

“Hm?” Susan glanced down. “Fine. This form’s pretty close to your fairy doll’s figure, and everything stretches. It still feels strange.”

“No stitching, just heat fusing. Nothing’s ever going to feel as fine or as soft as fabric normally does when you’re at this size. I mean, I have that spell to make fairy doll outfits, but for mundane things? Not really.” Nanase plunked down on the floor next to Susan, sitting cross-legged. “You’re okay with talking about all this, though?”

“You’re okay with it too.”

“Well. Yeah, it’s not really my issues we’re talking about, so-”

“No, no, I mean when you pop into fairy mode you can talk about your issues more easily. Just as I can. I think it’s… I don’t know. Maybe it just feels like we have more  _ distance  _ from them like this. Like they’re less real.” Susan took a seat next to Nanase, legs curled to the side. “That’s the way it is on my end, anyway.”

“That might be it.” Nanase said, eyes not quite focused on a single point as she took in Susan’s words. It made sense. She wasn’t  _ in  _ her body right now. She was herself, and  _ not  _ herself, and all the problems of the full-sized world  _ existed,  _ but… they were all ten feet to the right, with herself, sleeping in that bed. 

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Not exactly what she expected Susan to say, really. 

“It can be.” Nanase planted her hands on her knees, leaning forward. “But it also feels just a little like I’m running from my anxiety half the time.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing, is it?” Susan’s brow furrowed. “I’d rather be here talking out my issue than back at home, trying to avoid a panic attack.” 

Nanase stuttered a moment, trying to force a response out. “No. Jeez, no, if it’s that - if it strikes you  _ that  _ hard, then -”

“It does. Maybe not a full blown panic attack, but something akin to it. Honestly, when it gets really bad I just shut down emotionally.” 

“So the carving out back… the whole  _ making yourself a new home  _ thing… that was to get a space where you could just kind of  _ exist  _ without anything connected to anything else, right?” Nanase’s voice had dropped even further in volume. Susan sat bolt upright.

“ _ What? _ ”

“That was just the first thing to come to mind.”

“Do you really think that something that  _ simple  _ would work? Neuroses don’t come up and bite you because you’re somewhere familiar-”

“Well. Mine do.” Nanase interrupted quietly. 

Susan’s thought derailed, almost violently. She sighed.“Right. Right, of course you’re running from personal experience.”

“It’s really all I’ve got. I’m thinking about taking a few psych courses in college, but…” She crossed her arms, straightening up a little. “I’m sorry. You came looking for comfort and I started trying to play therapist.”

“It’s what you do, isn’t it? There’s a problem. You go and solve it.” Nanase could see the  _ slightest  _ trace of a smile on Susan’s lips as she said that. 

“Some problems just don’t solve easily.”

“Like flashbacks.” Ah, and now  _ Susan  _ was making assumptions. Unfortunately, hers were more on target. Nanase’s mouth felt dry - something she didn’t know could happen in her fairy form. 

“Exactly.” The silence between them stretched out, but it didn’t feel oppressive. After about a minute, Susan scooted over next to Nanase and gave her hand a squeeze. Nanase smiled and nodded once. She was okay. 

“Have you talked to Ellen about them?”

“Yeah. She helps a lot.” Nanase swallowed hard again - damn dry-mouth feeling was persistent. “We even worked out a signal.”

“...a… signal?” Susan sounded lost. 

“If I tell her I’m really thirsty, it means I’m having a flashback and I need to get  _ out. _ If she tells me that I look really thirsty, it means I don’t look good and  _ she  _ thinks I need to get out of there, but she wants confirmation.” Nanase was pretty sure she didn’t sound particularly emotional about that, but Susan still looked concerned.

“And if you’re  _ actually  _ just thirsty?” 

“Oh. I just don’t use the word ‘really’ with ‘thirsty’ unless it’s the signal.”

“Ah. That sounds workable, then.” So her concern was logistic, not - well, that was a relief. Nanase didn’t want anyone clucking around her like a mother hen. 

“They don’t trigger often. Mostly at school.” 

“At - that’s  _ awful. _ ” And there was the concern again.

“It’s not every day.”

“Still.” Susan let out a breath that Nanase hadn’t noticed she was holding. “If I had a trigger like that, something I could just  _ avoid  _ by not being there, I think I would. No harm in changing schools, even if it looks odd on a transcript.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Nanase closed her eyes. “But it would feel like quitting. I’m not going to do that. I just… cope. If it hits, it hits. It’s never  _ long.  _ Just little flashes.”

“But they’re bad enough that you have a signal for ‘I need to get out of here’ because of them.”

“Less  _ need,  _ more  _ would like,  _ but… yeah.” Great. Susan looked more concerned than ever now that Nanase was looking at her again. Susan turned - and suddenly she was lying down, head in Nanase’s lap, looking up at her.

“You really need a good psych.”

“Someone who I ask, ‘Hey I experienced the pain of  _ dying  _ multiple times in one day, what do I do about that?’”

“Yes.” Susan was utterly blunt about that. “My therapist can make a recommendation if you like.”

“Is he-”

“Yes.” One of them. Alien or mage or just  _ aware.  _ Okay. That was something she could work with. 

“...I wouldn’t say no to a referral, then.”

“Dandy.” Susan’s voice seemed a little fainter. Her eyes were closed. Nanase blinked. Tilted her head to one side. 

“Are you really  _ falling asleep  _ like this?”

“I had no idea how comfortable it would be to lie down like this, with my touch sensitivity  _ dulled.  _ It’s nice.”

“...hold on. Get up.”

“No.” Susan’s tone remained blunt.

“Now. C’mon.” 

“Fiiiine.” Susan sat up, and Nanase took her hand, leading them back to the bed. Fox vanished from the sheets, giving them more room, and Nanase plunked down with her back against her body, then patted her lap. Susan resumed her previous position. 

“Better?”

“Better, yes.”

“Good. Get some sleep, you.”

“Mh. I shall attempt.” Her eyes closed again. “Nanase?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. For trusting me.” With her trauma? With the signals? She couldn’t tell. Maybe a bit of both.

“Any time.” Susan’s head remained on her lap for hours; it was almost six when Nanase stirred, realized she’d actually fallen asleep, and then finally realized that Susan’s fairy doll had faded away. 

-o-

“I think Ellen’s picked up on it.” Nanase sprawled back on Susan’s couch. She was grateful that fairy wings folded easily; the position was quite comfortable. Susan - who was adjusting a table she’d finished making - didn’t react to the comment visibly. She took a few steps back, checking the position, before pulling a chair up to it and taking a seat. 

“Not surprising, is it? Ellen’s lazy streak aside, she can be pretty astute.”

“Hey.” Nanase couldn’t help but be a little defensive of her girlfriend. Susan folded her hands atop her knee.

“You know it’s true. Ellen’s a bit lazy, Elliot’s indecisive, Sarah has issues with body image, Tedd is antisocial, Grace is beyond my ability to diagnose, Justin-”

“So we’ve all got our issues, I get it.” Nanase’s tail flicked beside her. “Still.”

“I apologize if my comment seemed overly blunt, then.” Susan rolled her eyes.

“Apology accepted.”

“Did she seem put off by it, or did she just accept it as it is?”

“She didn’t seem… jealous or anything. Just curious.” Nanase closed her eyes. “I told her that we’ve been talking late at night sometimes.”

“Ah. You simply omitted  _ in person. _ ” Susan seemed a little amused by that. She pressed on the table, making sure that it didn’t rock around at all. 

“Doesn’t seem to matter much. This is nice, but we’d be doing a lot of the same thing if we were sitting in front of a keyboard. I mean, it would take longer for us to get to  _ this  _ level of comfort, and you wouldn’t be making furniture every few nights, but I think we’d still be talking about it by now.” Nanase slowly sat up, as Susan tapped her fingers together.

“If you want to tell her, I don’t have a problem with it.” 

“I probably will.” Nanase shifted her weight around. “It’s just tricky knowing how to do it without worrying her.”

“I… suppose. Though I can’t imagine why this would be more worrisome.”

“Mostly the fact that I haven’t told her yet.” Nanase deadpanned. Susan froze up.

“Ah.”

“Yeah. Even if it’s not something weird, the fact that I’ve held off on saying anything could be construed as us hiding something, and…” Nanase let out a breath. “And we have been. Nothing sinister, but we haven’t been forthcoming.”

“Maybe we should fix that.” Susan tapped her foot a few times, finally standing up. She looked around her tiny house slowly, before finally setting her eyes on Nanase directly. “Please. Tell her in detail what we’ve discussed and done so far. Tell her about the house, the flights - everything.”

“Uh…” Nanase’s eyes widened.

“And tell her that I’ll be ready to receive more guests soon.”

“...do you want to run that by me again?”

-o-

Tedd's wand had done the job perfectly.

There were eight faeries in her stump, joking around and sharing a cupcake (one, of course, could feed the eight of them with two thirds to spare). Her little fairy house had been a hangout before. Now? Now it felt like a second home, and they knew, and no one had made a big deal of things…

Elliot and Tedd were talking about potential party games they could go through since cards and dice were out of the question at the moment. Ellen was taking an impromptu dance lesson from Ashley, who was  _ delighted  _ at how much easier balancing was with a  _ tail.  _ And soon, they were going on a flight, just to show everyone the best places in Moperville to  _ be a fairy.  _

It felt amazing.

-o-

“ _ Steering is tricky! _ ”

“Don’t overthink it!” Nanase called back at Ashley, who was attempting to flutter along behind them. ‘Attempting’ was a pretty good way to put it. She wasn’t doing terribly - she was at least able to roughly keep pace with the rest of the fluttering pack (Flock? Cloud? Glitter? What  _ was  _ the proper term for a group of faeries?!), but she was drifting left and right erratically, and banking, and - really, just  _ looking  _ at her made Nanase a little dizzy. Her advice seemed to help a little bit, but she was still  _ careening  _ off to one side and back. Oy. She glanced back at the others… who… were doing better, mostly. Elliot had taken to the air like a pro - sure, he wasn’t used to flying with  _ wings,  _ but it was the magic that did most of the work. Tedd was arguably  _ better,  _ showing off and hovering in place backwards. Sarah was doing fine - though it was pretty clear that she was freaked out from the (relative) height. Grace was taking it all in stride. And…

And Justin could  _ not stop grinning.  _

“Down here!” Susan called. The octet set down at a large brick tower near a cluster of trees. Sarah plunked down first, peering inside the tower from the empty window. 

“What the  _ heck? _ I’d say it looks like a chimney, but there’s  _ nothing… _ ”

“It was a fire training tower back in the 50s. Back when the concept was novel. There  _ was  _ a full metal fire escape off the side, but it rusted away decades ago. And now…” Susan took a seat on the brick ledge. “Now it’s the best place in town to listen to the crickets. You can barely hear the highway from here.” The distant sound of trucks was almost omnipresent in Moperville, a distant white noise that people didn’t notice after years of living there. Not until the sound was interrupted. Justin glanced back over the ledge into the empty, burned-out shell of a tower. 

“That wasn’t at all what I thought when I saw this place.”

“What was?” Nanase tilted her head to one side. 

“I thought you’d come up with some kind of fairy flying sport. I mean, you’ve got a giant brick chute with a bunch of windows - it just screams ‘use me to do something’, right?” 

“So you saw the Great Spot of Silence, and you thought ‘oh hey flying playground’.” Susan smirked. “Naturally.” 

“You’re genuinely telling me I’m the only person who was thinking that?” Justin pouted. 

“Well now you’ve got  _ me  _ thinking about it, and I can kind of see it? Like vertical quiddich meets soccer, but with rules that make sense… we’d need a super ball or a ping pong ball or something to use, though.” Tedd rubbed his chin, lost in thought, as Grace rolled her eyes. 

“I’m  _ pretty  _ sure I could get rules together for Fairyball in a week if you want me to.” Ashley said. Susan groaned quietly. 

“Can we just… enjoy this a moment? Please?”

“Right. Right.” Sarah interjected before anyone else could. Quiet crept over them. The chirruping of the crickets echoed in the bare walls of the brick behind them, and faded off into the distance before them. The stars were never particularly bright in Moperville, but in this particular nook, they did seem a little brighter. Everything was cool, and calm, and… 

...and perfect. 

Nanase leaned into Ellen, who propped her chin on Nanase’s shoulder. She kissed her girlfriend’s nose. Elliot had an arm wrapped around Ashley, and another around Tedd’s shoulder, who was holding Grace - cuties. And…

...and… Sarah was holding Susan’s hand?

_ Huh.  _

Nanase tried to push that thought through her mind. There wasn’t… was there? No. No, couldn’t be. It didn’t look particularly romantic, just…

Oh. Wait.

Susan had probably mentioned that her touch sensitivity was muted. That had to be it. It was just… enjoying the fact that she  _ could  _ have physical contact with her best friend without part of her brain screaming quite so loud, and that was probably the best thing she’d seen all night. 

Yeah, the stump was a little too small to pack everyone in super comfortably (they all fit, it just felt a little too  _ cozy  _ so to speak). But Nanase had to be glad for Susan’s decision to invite everyone - if not for the fun of getting everyone in Fairy Mode, then for  _ that.  _

Because  _ that  _ moment was overdue.

-o-

“I get it.” Ellen whispered to Susan. The others had departed, except Nanase, who was sitting on the roof.

“Get what?” Susan felt no compulsion to keep her voice down.

“This.” She gestured around the stump. “Honestly, it’s a lot more creative than what Nanase gets up to.” 

“You knew about that?” 

“I’m not the heaviest sleeper in the world, and fairy kisses  _ can  _ stir me. I put it together after a while.” Ellen glanced down at one of the stress balls, before looking Susan in the eye again. “Thanks.”

“She’s helped me as much as I’ve helped her, I think.” It was impossible to tell for sure, but Susan liked to think the give and take was about even. She certainly didn’t like the thought that she was ‘the needy one’ in the relationship - and she banished that thought as soon as it popped up. 

“Probably.” Ellen stepped forward, and suddenly wrapped Susan in a tight hug. “But it was still awesome and I’m still gonna do  _ this  _ while you’re in a state where hugs are  _ acceptable. _ ”

Susan squeezed back. She smiled. Insomnia was turning into one of the better things in her life, in an incredibly roundabout way.

-o-

It had only been two days since the party happened, but the fairy wands were getting used frequently. By all accounts, Ashley  _ was  _ working on making Fairyball a workable sport, and Elliot had used  _ his  _ wand to pop in and ask her about an idea for a Review Show episode. Which got him thrown into a trunk, because  _ boundaries,  _ that was her room dammit. 

He apologized, at least. 

Seeing the light on in her stump wasn’t something that she expected that evening. So maybe Nanase had another late night - it was to be expected. Yes, they’d had a  _ fun  _ night together, but it was still exciting, and excitement led to - 

“Sarah?!”

“Good timing! Pass me the timberwolf gray?”

“ _ What. _ ” Sarah was pulling a  _ Sistine Chapel,  _ up on a tiny ladder (evidently one cribbed from one of her old Barbie sets, judging by the condition and sparkly pink material) and was covering the ceiling with whorls of impressionist brush strokes in a vague approximation of Van Gogh’s  _ Starry Night.  _

“Well.” She grunted as she pushed off the ladder and fluttered down. “Rustic cabin chic is great, but you needed  _ some  _ kind of an accent in here - some color besides what you get from the furniture.” 

“Hence, the ceiling.” Susan couldn’t hide her smile. She was  _ trying,  _ but it was nudging up the corners of her mouth no matter how she tried to press it down. 

“Right. It’ll also make it feel more spacious.” 

“Naturally, naturally.” She had to take Sarah’s word for it. She’d never gotten sucked down the rabbit hole that was decorating TV shows. Susan glanced down at the paint pots - the little plastic acrylic paints were about the size of an actual paint can, proportionately. She pointed to one - Sarah nodded. Timberwolf gray. She handed it over. Sarah’s choice of Q-tips cut in half were working pretty well as paintbrushes, from the look of it. “I’d be irritated that you didn’t ask first, but… wow.”

“Wow is good.” Sarah let a little pride show - she did love it when people appreciated her work. Susan nodded, her hands folding behind her as she took a few steps around the floor, staring upwards. 

“It  _ is. _ So… thank you. Unprompted or not, it’s nice that my little solo endeavor has become a collaboration.” She took a seat in one of her stress ball chairs - and lifted a tiny spiral seashell from the end table. “Nothing to make a place feel a little more lived in than more people actually  _ doing  _ things there.” 

“No kidding.” Sarah wiped her brow, heading back up the ladder with the gray paint, adding a few more highlights. “So where’d you find the shell?”

“...on the end table.”

“No, I mean - before you brought it in here! It’s nice.” 

“You didn’t bring it? I thought this was more of your decorating effort.”

“Um. No.” Sarah glanced back over her shoulder. That was when Susan noticed the other additions - a clock made from a bottlecap near the door (that was on the  _ proper  _ time), and a few hooks screwed into the wall below it, one of which now held a hat. An Indiana Jones-style fedora. 

“I show people my work and everyone wants to play with it.” Susan finally said, shaking her head a little. Sarah snorted.

“It happens. Hazards of having the best toys in the group. Why do you think we spend so much time in Tedd’s basement?”

“Yeah. But this is a little different, isn’t it?” 

“...well. Yeah.” Sarah smiled sheepishly. Susan didn’t complain further. In all honesty, the additions felt nice. She’d invite her friends to make changes (perhaps more  _ restrained  _ than Sarah’s ceiling mural) later on… after she’d given them a few gentle jabs about adding coathooks without her approval. They didn’t even  _ have  _ coats that tiny yet. 

-o-

“How’s the valedictorian?”

“Not going to be one. I blew the physics final.” Nanase shrugged. “Still graduating with honors, though.”

“You seem remarkably calm about that. I thought your mother would have thrown a fit.”

“I think she would have… if I hadn’t told her that I was going to the U instead of one of her Ivy League wet dreams.” Nanase broke into a grin. Susan couldn’t help but smile as well.

“I think  _ half  _ our group is going there,” Susan said.

“About that, yeah. Have you made your decision?” 

Susan leaned back in her stress ball as Nanase flittered over, just staring up at the painted ceiling. It was a pretty good substitute for stargazing on overcast nights. “I’ll be going with you. Mom had similar…  _ wet dreams,  _ as you called them, but she relented.”

“How’d you get her to do that?”

“By pointing out the rampant history of sexual misconduct in Ivy League institutions, and the relatively  _ nonexistent  _ history of such at the U.” 

Nanase straightened. “There - I mean, it  _ happens  _ there too-”

“Not by the staff, though. Not since the seventies. It seems they have  _ very  _ good oversight.” A beat passed. “And I  _ might _ have been delivering slanted data, anyway.”

“You wanted an excuse to go to college in-state.”

“I  _ did. _ ”

“You know I can summon fairy dolls at a distance.” Nanase leaned in closer. Susan shook her head.

“I do. But you know it wouldn’t be the same. I… I’ve  _ let down my guard  _ more in the last few months than the last few  _ years  _ before that combined. This thing we have is good for me. I think it’s good for you. And… and yeah, I want to stay close.”

“This  _ thing? _ ” Nanase cocked an eyebrow. “Friendship is the usual term for it.”

“And yet, it seems inadequate when you really think of everything we’ve helped each other with. It’s a good starting point, it just doesn’t cover all the bases. Friend, confidante, amateur mutual therapist - there really isn’t a good term to cover  _ all  _ that.”

“I bet there’s one in German.” Nanase mused. 

Susan snorted. “Of course there is. German runs on cramming words together when you can’t think of the right word.” She rocked to her feet. Nanase took half a step back, rubbing her arm. It felt like there was something they both wanted to say, but neither could just come out and say it. 

Susan took the initiative. “Have you made housing arrangements yet?” 

“I… haven’t, no. I figured the dorm, but…” 

“It’s quite a bit cheaper to split rent on a house.” Nanase’s eyes widened slightly. It looked as if she couldn’t quite think of what to say, but what came out was anything  _ but  _ what Susan expected.

“You do realize that any affordable house near the campus will be a run-down pile of spackle and hate. And abandoned beer can pyramids.” Susan let out a single sharp laugh. 

“I’m expecting it. Someone very wise once said that a student’s first house must always be terrible.”

“Would you be okay with Ellen living with us?” 

“I would. Have you asked her?”

“Uh - well, not yet, but we were going to try…” Nanase broke off in a mumble, and Susan raised both hands.

“I get it. Yes, I’m fine with that. May I assume that you’d be okay with me asking Sarah if she wants in?”

“Yeah. Yeah, definitely.” Nanase’s wings gave an excited little flutter that didn’t quite register with the rest of her body. “We’re doing this?”

“I believe we are.” Susan leaned on the table. “Going from several-time-a-week roommates to full time. Shouldn’t be that much of a stretch, should it?”

“We’ll make it work.” And Nanase’s tone made Susan believe that, yes, they would. Definitely. 

-o-

“You are sure about this.” 

“Positive, Mom. It’s okay. Sarah and Susan are going to be  _ awesome  _ housemates. I trust them, okay?” Best not to mention Ellen at the moment - while her mother knew, she didn’t want  _ another  _ grousing fight about that.

“If they do not hold up their share of the rent-”

“They  _ will,  _ Mom. Sheesh. It’s okay. I gotta go.” Nanase kissed her mother’s forehead and ran off to her car. 

The old Subaru Brat was  _ kind  _ of a pickup - and so she’d been volunteered for cargo duty. Her things and Ellen’s were already in the back. She headed down the street. Some minutes later at Sarah’s house they added a large easel and two tackle boxes full of art supplies to their load that just wouldn’t fit into Sarah’s overstuffed car. 

And then their happy little caravan got to Susan’s house. And Nanase burst into laughter. 

It took her a good minute to get over it; by that point Ellen and Sarah were out talking to Susan. She was clearly freshly-showered, still red in the face and  _ visibly _ shaky from exertion, and was sitting on something. A stump, freshly unearthed, roots chopped back, the whole thing also  _ sprayed off  _ with a hose. Next to it was a small cardboard box, the top open, full of old jewelry boxes.

“Okay. Three questions.” Nanase held up a hand. 

“Shoot.” Susan said, her voice dead level. 

“One - how long did this take?” 

“The better part of the morning. And yesterday. And, uh. The day before, as far as packing the furniture went.” She nudged the cardboard box. “...also took a full box of Kleenex. I couldn’t find any bubble wrap thin enough to be workable at that size.” 

“Two - why didn’t you ask me for help?”

“Because -” Susan started, then paused. She cleared her throat. “...I don’t know. I suppose it just didn’t occur to me. Besides, I crafted it, digging it out is just the last step in its journey from the yard.” 

Nanase bent over and stared through the windows. It seemed like she’d done it carefully - all the furniture was moved out, as she said, and nothing in the house proper was damaged. She’d even plugged the door with a huge blob of beeswax. “You wouldn’t  _ believe _ the grief my mother gave me, though. ‘Susan, you can leave it there. Susan, that’s entirely too much work for a dollhouse, even if you put in the windows yourself. Susan, are you genuinely getting the chainsaw out…?’” She snorted. “Of  _ course _ I was getting the chainsaw out, I wasn’t going to unearth a good six feet of roots. I’d be there for days.” 

“Okay… okay. And three -” She nudged the stump. “...where are we going to put it?” 

“The living room? Put a plexiglass top on it, use it as a coffee table…?”

“And auxiliary living room.” Sarah nodded. “We’ll need to level off the bottom a little, but that should be workable.”

“ _ Yo,  _ dawg, I heard you like living, so I put a living room in your living room-” Ellen continued the thought in meme form as Susan and Nanase groaned. 

But inside or out, Susan was keeping her stump. After all, one never knew when another late night would strike. The quartet hoisted the stump into the truck bed - next to a beanbag-sized silicone ball that squished around Sarah’s leg as she bent low to set it down - and off they rolled. 

Off to a new day. New anxieties. New excitement.

...yeah, that stump was going to get a lot of use. 

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
